Page 3 of Courting Danger

A glint of metal out of the corner of my eye suddenly caught my attention, but before I could look, someone grabbed the front of my shirt and yanked me to the floor. I landed flat on my back, knocking the air from my lungs. Then an even greater weight landed on top of me.

Half a heartbeat later, the familiar pop of a silenced gun sounded far too close for comfort.

A large body lay over me like a blanket of muscle and bone. I stared up into a stern face and gasped out a single word.

“What?”

The stranger on top of me pressed me harder into the floor, stealing what little breath I’d managed to regain.

“Stay down.”

Over the stranger’s shoulder, I caught the same glint of metal from before.

A gun.

Someone had just tried to shoot me. Thanks to this stranger, the bullet had missed its mark, but now the gunman was approaching to make a second attempt.

While I was still processing that fact, the stranger jumped to his feet and intercepted the gunman.

The man didn’t even flinch when the weapon pointed at his face. Grabbing the gunman’s wrist, he twisted the man into an arm lock and knocked the gun from his grip. Then, with a quick snap and the crunch of breaking bone, the gunman’s arm hung limp.

Clutching his broken arm, the gunman shouted in surprise and pain. The noise was quickly silenced by a strike to the throat, which left the man gasping and sputtering on the ground, unable to draw breath.

Probably a collapsed windpipe, based on the blue color tinting the gunman’s face. Depending on the severity of the wound, he might survive, or he might not.

I didn’t care. I was too busy staring up at my savior.

Well over six feet tall, the man was built like a tank but moved like a viper. A scar sliced down his cheek, starting just under his right eye and following the strong line of his jaw like a teardrop. Overall, the man cut an intimidating figure, haloed in the neon lights of the club.

Letting my gaze trace my rescuer from head to toe, I licked my lips.

“Well, you’re definitely not boring.”

The man never heard me. The gunman wasn’t alone. The moment the first gunman hit the ground, another stepped out of the crowd. My savior jumped to his feet and rammed a shoulder into the gut of the nearest gunman, slamming them into the wall. The would-be assailant’s head snapped back with a crack of bone against brick. He staggered but kept a grip on his gun.

A hand grabbed my arm and tried to pull me to my feet.

“Sir, we need to go.”

I slapped away the hand. “There you are. About time.” My bodyguard had finally joined the action, though instead of fighting off the enemy, the fucker’s first instinct was to flee. I was not impressed. I’d be firing this one by the end of the night.

Another glint of steel.

My bodyguard collapsed to the floor with his throat slit from one side to the other and his life force creating a thick puddle on the floor. A third attacker, not a gunman this time, stood over the fresh corpse with a knife in one hand and a victorious smile on his face.

I sniffed in disdain. “A bit premature, don’t you think? I’m not dead yet.”

Just as the word “dead” left my mouth, I kicked the knife-wielding attacker in the shin. The man hopped back, avoiding the blow, but it was enough. By then, my savior had finished with the second gunman and snuck up from behind to wrap an arm around the third attacker’s throat.

Struggling to get free, the attacker tried stabbing my rescuer with the butt of the knife. He caught the man’s flailing wrist in one hand, twisting it until the asshole dropped the weapon. Unarmed, the assailant could only flail as the arm around his throat squeezed until he passed out.

Four bodies lay sprawled over the floor, one dead and three unconscious. My champion stood over them, his expression just as serious and restrained as he had been with a gun pointed at his head. There was no victory in this man’s eyes, only an intense focus. Like a knife that refused to be sheathed, he was ready for the next fight.

Actually, there were five bodies on the floor.

I realized with disgust that I’d spent the entire fight lying on the ground like a damned swooning maiden. Quickly getting to my feet, I dusted myself off and then turned to face my knight in shining armor.

What exactly did one say in a situation like this?

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